


Christmas Dinner Or: Beautiful In My Eyes

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, No Smut, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sibling Incest, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weight Issues, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 14:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Some silly words spoil the mood on Christmas Eve. But not for long :)





	Christmas Dinner Or: Beautiful In My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenellis/gifts).

> Written for and gifted to a lovely, loyal reader who might know why :) People like you keep me going, girl! :)
> 
> And we all remember how Mycroft says to John in "Study In Pink": "Can you imagine the Christmas Dinners?" Well, I can! :) The second part of the title is taken from the song "Beautiful In My Eyes" by Joshua Kadison.

“Do take more potatoes, Sherlock, they are delicious.”

Sherlock's stomach already felt unpleasantly full. It was not used to getting stuffed like this. “No, thanks; I have enough.”

Mycroft handed him the bowl with a smile. “Just one or two, for me?”

“No, Mycroft, I do have enough.” Sherlock had been sitting around for too long already. His legs were itching. He needed to move! Christmas or not, it wasn’t healthy to be that lazy all day!

His brother shook his head. “I don’t see why...”

“Isn’t it enough that one of us eats until he bursts?”

Silence followed this outburst. Sherlock, having closed his mouth with a noise that had probably been audible to the other end of London, was frozen on his chair, watching Mycroft's face fall in slow motion. His eyes! Sherlock was close to ripping his own ones out so he wouldn’t have to see the hurt in Mycroft's anymore...

Eventually, Mycroft cleared his throat and neatly put his tissue onto his almost empty plate. “Apologies. You’re quite right. Excuse me.” He got up and left the room with long steps and a very straight back, moving with grace and dignity.

Sherlock watched him leaving and his mouth was open again, but no sound came out of it. Then he slumped on his chair like a balloon that had been cut with a knife, and that’s how he was feeling right now.

There was no sound coming from his brother. The house was silent besides the ticking of the damn clock on the wall. The only good news was that he had not heard the opening and closing of the front door.

After what seemed like ages, he managed to stand up and go searching for his big brother, his partner, his love, his _ever__y__thing_, who was now horribly hurt by something that had come out of his stupid, stupid mouth.

*****

He didn't have to search for long. He found Mycroft in his bedroom. Their bedroom, when he was here. When he _could _be here without John or Mrs Hudson getting suspicious. Rarely he was able to sleep next to his brother. This Christmas though, they were both away so it was no problem to stay with his brother until Boxing Day. If he wanted that at all.

Mycroft was sitting on the bed, a book on his thighs, but Sherlock could tell he wasn’t reading.

He stood in the door frame, not sure if he was welcome. His legs felt like jelly.

Mycroft looked up and smiled, but it was a rather sad smile. “It’s fine, Sherlock. I shouldn’t have been so insistent. I know you’re not the one of us who likes to eat that much.”

Sherlock winced at the hint of bitterness and self-loathing in his last words. “I’m sorry,” he burst out. “I didn’t mean it like it came out. You’re great. Slim. Fit. Nothing wrong with liking to eat.” And it wasn’t! Mycroft had had a chubby phase in his youth but that had been over for ages!

Mycroft patted onto the mattress. “Come here. And stop apologising for something that is nothing but true. I am weak. When it comes to food. Or to you...”

“I’m not complaining,” Sherlock assured him while hurrying to sit down next to his brother. “About nothing. I love to be with you. Just not used to so much… sitting around and…” He broke off and Mycroft smiled.

“...eating, yes, I know. It’s our first Christmas as a couple and I wanted it to be, you know, perfect. I think I cooked quite well...” He curled his arm around Sherlock's thin waist.

“You did!” Sherlock nodded heftily. “It’s all delicious. And I spoilt it…” He couldn’t remember when he had felt so guilty and bad the last time. He insulted people all the time, and most of the times deliberately, and it didn’t matter to him one bit. But this was his Mycroft!

“No. You didn’t.”

Sherlock shook his head and tousled Mycroft's fine black hair. “Lying to your lover on Christmas Eve? What would Mummy say?”

Thank God, their parents were in Paris over the holidays. Mummy had apologised profusely for not being able to spend Christmas with them – which showed how little she knew her boys. They both adored her, and their father, but only from afar…

“I think if she knew about us, I wouldn’t have to worry too much about lying today, Sherlock,” Mycroft said with a wink.

Sherlock grinned but he knew how guilty Mycroft had felt about their forbidden relationship in the beginning. Thank God, he had got over that. Sherlock was thirty-one. Really old enough to decide with whom he wanted to be! And there had never been anyone else. He had not understood completely why until this one evening when he had been here, in Mycroft's house, to discuss a case late in the evening, and the power had gone off and it had been stormy and he hadn’t been able to leave, and there had been candles and Mycroft had put a blanket around him and held him and then…

“I love you,” he said now, grabbing Mycroft's neck with his large hand.

“Even when I get fat again?” Mycroft’s tone and expression was teasing but Sherlock knew a true core when he heard and saw one.

After what had just happened, that was an easy enough deduction. Mycroft, his incredibly handsome, lovely Mycroft, felt insecure about his looks. He had always done and now Sherlock had given him even more reason and it was just awful. “You’re perfect. But even if you gain ten or twenty or thirty pounds, I will still love you, and want you, and please, come back downstairs so we can have dessert.”

“Oh Sherlock. You have never been sweeter than when you feel guilty,” Mycroft said with an indulgent smile. “Do you remember the Christmas dinners before this happened to us?”

Sherlock grimaced. Oh yes. He did. He had been nasty to his brother since he had been about fifteen. A lanky boy with too much energy and no patience. Damn… “I have not changed one bit,” he mumbled, sounding bitter to his own ears. “It’s a miracle that you love me at all… You still do, don’t you?” he asked then, with sincere uncertainty, as Mycroft had not said it back, and he always said it back, or first!

“Sherlock, of course I love you.” Mycroft pulled him down and their lips met in a rather frantic kiss.

Sherlock tasted the dinner and the wine and Mycroft, and he felt like crying about all those nasty weight jokes he had thrown at his brother all this time and about his careless words just a few minutes ago. He hadn’t meant them; he had just found it necessary to lash out at the man he loved because he had been feeling weird.

“My dear boy,” Mycroft said when he had pulled back, and he stroked Sherlock’s forehead with incredible tenderness. “What do you think – shall we get dressed and walk for a while until you don’t feel so tense anymore, and then we come back and eat our chocolate mousse and make love?”

Sherlock nodded so hard that his neck creaked. “Yes, please.” He could see them walking around in the darkness in his mind’s eye. They wouldn’t be able to hold hands or kiss but they could walk next to each other, their shoulders touching from time to time, and maybe there would be an exceptionally dark corner where they could embrace… This was their love. A forbidden secret threatening to tear their lives apart should it ever come out. But it was their love and Sherlock would hold onto it for all times and under all circumstances. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Mycroft squeezed him tight. “I should have known better than to pester you with eating more and forcing you to sit around all day. We will do better for the rest of the holidays, hm?”

Yes. Sherlock would definitely do better. And when they came back, he thought when they went downstairs to get their coats, he would do Mycroft really good and show him that for him he was awesome and sexy and desirable, and he wouldn’t stop caressing and licking and making love to his brother until Mycroft believed him that he was beautiful in his eyes, beautiful and the only one, for now and for good.


End file.
